


And If Tomorrow It's All Over, At Least We Had It For A Moment

by ratatat



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Jon being a sap, Jon is full of sappiness and is a romantic and i will die on this hill, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Weddings (kind of), also this isnt in the fic but season 5 doesnt happen just so you know, unstoppable force (hating the government getting to decide if you're officially married), vs immovable object (wanting to marry the love of your life)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28067406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratatat/pseuds/ratatat
Summary: When Jon wakes up on his first morning in the cabin, seeing Martin sleeping next to him, he feels for the first time in a long time like he belongs. He belongs in Martin’s arms, his hands around his waist, his nose tucked in to his shoulder. This is where he’s meant to be.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 13
Kudos: 122





	And If Tomorrow It's All Over, At Least We Had It For A Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Long time no see! I decided to write this and post it instead of studying for my final tomorrow because I've lost control of my life. I don't think there are any content warnings for this but in case I missed something please tell me in the comments and I'll add an edit. Title is from No Choir by Florence + The Machine.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

When Jon wakes up on his first morning in the cabin, seeing Martin sleeping next to him, he feels for the first time in a long time like he belongs. He belongs in Martin’s arms, his hands around his waist, his nose tucked in to his shoulder. This is where he’s meant to be. 

He stares at Martin for a long time, studying his face. He’s beautiful. Jon knows this already, having spent years making quick glances at Martin when he hands him his tea or copies of statements. But this is the first time he’s allowed himself to look. 

Martin is beautiful. He looks so peaceful in his sleep, his face relaxed instead of worried. Jon stares at the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips, wishing he had a single artistic bone in his body so he could fully describe Martin’s beauty to the world. He wants to paint the way the sunlight reflects on Martin’s hair, carve the slope of his shoulders into stone, play a song to the tune of Jon’s own beating heart as he stares at him, just to prove that he can. So that maybe, when someone else comes to this cabin, in a month or a year or a century after they’re gone, there’s evidence that they were here. That Jon loved Martin, loves Martin, will always love Martin. That here in these walls lies every single time Jon has thought about touching Martin, or kissing him, or wanting to apologize for the way he took him for granted, or all the times Jon has missed Martin and wished that he was next to him. 

Jon thinks back to his little cottage daydreams. It feels like so long ago that he sat at his desk, imagining living in a little house at the edge of the woods with Martin by his side. Daisy’s safehouse isn’t much more than a dilapidated little building; harsh and cruel and uncomfortable, the way Daisy liked it. This place wasn’t built for comfort or people trying to build a life out of broken pieces, but Jon wonders anyway. He lets himself imagine what it would be like to replace the moldy couch with a new one, find a better television set. He lets himself imagine moving in a new fridge into the kitchen, wonders if Martin could lift it all by himself. They would hang pictures on the wall, he thinks. Repair the broken showerhead, fix the leaky sink in the kitchen. They could make the cabin a reflection of themselves, fix it as they pick up the pieces of themselves that have been broken and shattered throughout the years. 

Martin’s eyes open and Jon’s breath catches in his throat. He’s so in love it  _ hurts _ , he can feel it clawing its way through his chest, up his throat, into his mouth. He tries to keep the words in, doesn’t want to disturb Martin, until he remembers that he doesn’t have to anymore. 

“Good morning,” Jon whispers. “I love you.”

Martin smiles at him and reaches up to brush Jon’s hair from his face. “G’morning,” he says sleepily. “Love you too.”

Jon grins back, shifts a little to let Martin pet his hair. 

“Watcha thinking about?” Martin asks as his hand cups the back of Jon’s head, stroking the hair under his ear. 

“You.”

Martin laughs and leans over to kiss him on the lips. “Were you really?”

“I’m always thinking about you,” Jon smiles.

“You’re such a disgusting sap.” 

“You love it, though.”

“‘Course I do. I love everything about you.” Jon feels so warm tucked up against Martin like this, one of Martin’s hands in his hair and the other around his waist. He feels warm inside too, his chest bursting with so much emotion he barely knows what to do with it. When was the last time he’s been this happy? With Georgie, maybe, back in college. He still had friends and his grandmother and wasn’t fully aware of how much he had to lose. It’s not perfect, it never will be, but just for now, as he and Martin talk about their plans for today, curled up into each in bed, he can pretend that this is all he knows. There is no Institute, no fear, no Knowing. There is just the two of them on what feels like the edge of the Earth. 

His stomach growls, breaking the spell of the early morning magic. “Do you think there’s any proper food in the kitchen?” he asks. 

“Last I checked, there were only some cans of soup. We can go to the village today, pick up some groceries.” 

It’s slow work, getting up from the bed and getting ready to go out. Jon’s too afraid to let Martin out of his arms, as though he’ll vanish as soon as Jon lets go. Martin seems to feel the same way, but their hunger wins out soon enough. Jon makes up for it by holding his hand the entire way to the village, occasionally squeezing Martin’s hands and feeling a little thrill go up his spine when Martin squeezes back. 

* * *

One of the stranger things about breaking away from something that’s controlled you for so long is that you never consider that you have a choice. At the Institute, Jon only ate whatever pastries were in the breakroom or whatever Daisy or Basira tried to force him to eat. He didn’t really think about food as a thing anymore. But in the grocery store, he’s almost overwhelmed by the fact that he can eat whatever he wants. Basira will be sending him statements soon, but for now, he can eat human food and enjoy it. 

“What do you want?” Martin asks. Jon has no idea how to respond. He wants- he wants-

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “I didn’t consider food.”

“Me neither. How about we just go up and down the aisles and grab whatever we want?”

“Can we even afford that?”

Martin smirks. “Peter gave me a credit card back at the Institute. He said there wasn’t any limit. What better way to piss him off than spend it on ourselves?”

Jon laughs. He can’t believe there’s a way to make Peter roll over in his grave. 

They end up buying way too much food for two people, but Jon can’t bring himself to care. The food in their basket ranges from instant ramen to a German chocolate cake to fresh raspberries. It’s the most excited he’s felt in years. 

“All set, dears?” the checkout woman asks. She reminds Jon of the librarian from his primary school for some reason. She looks like the kind of woman to sit with Jon as he sifted through books and sneak him novels considered “too difficult” for his age. 

“Yeah,” Martin says as he unloads their groceries on to the table for her to scan. “Sorry- we got a lot of stuff.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. I remember when I was on my honeymoon- money isn’t really a thing you consider.”

“Honeymoon?” Jon asks, his voice pitching higher than he’d like. 

The woman looks up. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. But I can tell- like recognizes like, after all.” She smiles. “For what it’s worth, you two look like a very happy couple. As someone who’s been married for a long time I can tell you that being married only gets better with age.”

Martin smiles, taking the grocery bags in to his hands. “Thank you. That really means a lot.”

“Of course, dear. I hope you have a happy honeymoon!”

* * *

Jon can’t stop thinking about the lady at the store. She was right, in a way- they  _ were _ on a honeymoon, just not one for marriage. Jon considered it more of a “getting away from your toxic workplace and finally being able to be with the love of your life” honeymoon. Was that a honeymoon? What would their actual honeymoon be like? He wonders where they would go for it- somewhere tropical? Maybe somewhere in France, Jon Knows it’s particularly nice this time of year in Nice. Or maybe- oh.

_ Oh _ .

  
Jon looks over at Martin, who’s busy trying to light a fire in the fireplace, muttering about damp firewood and crappy newspapers. 

He wants to marry Martin. Or maybe not marry- Jon’s never really believed in marriage as an institution, but he wants to be with Martin for the rest of his life. He wants to have some sort of ceremony to show everyone that he and Martin are together. He wants a wedding ring to show off to strangers, let them know that he’s married to the kindest, smartest, most caring man in the world. He wants more vacations just like this, all over the world. He wants  _ Martin _ . 

“I love you,” he blurts out.

Martin twists around to look at him. “Love you too,” he smiles. Jon’s heart melts. He wants Martin to look at him like that forever, wants him to smile forever. He wants Martin all the time and he aches. He loves Martin so much. 

“Do you want to get married?” Jon says. He winces as Martin’s face morphs in to one of shock. Stupid, what a stupid thing to say, why does he have to be so impulsive?

“I’m sorry!” he says immediately after. “That was stupid of me, I didn’t mean it, I just- the woman today, she was so sure we were in love, and we  _ are _ , and I love you, but I just thought that maybe having a honeymoon would be nice. But that’s years in the future, and you don’t know if you’ll want to be with me for years, and that’s okay. I didn’t mean it, she just- she got me thinking.”

“What?” Martin says. “Jon, what do you mean I won’t want to be with you in a few years? Of course I will!”

“You don’t know that,” Jon scoffs. 

“Well, you know everything, so just peek into my head and see if I’m serious,” Martin says.

“I’m not going to Look into your head to see if you love me!”

Martin sighs. “Jon, of course I love you, and of course I want to be with you. Your question just caught me off guard is all. I-” Martin blushes and looks away.

“Yeah?”

“It’s stupid,” he mumbles. 

“It can’t be stupider than asking someone to marry them after dating them for a day,” Jon says. 

“That’s not stupid, Jon. I just-” Martin sighs again. “Ugh, you’ll think I’m so stupid.”

“You’re physically incapable of being stupid, Martin.”

“Ugh, fine!” Martin is quiet for a moment before speaking again. “I think marriage is stupid.”

“What?”

“Not love! I think love is great! Being in love with you is- yeah,” Martin smiles, looking extremely lovestruck, and Jon wants nothing more than to kiss him. “But the idea of like- signing a certificate saying you’re married kind of ruins the whole love thing for me. I like the idea of a ceremony, and vows, and getting dressed up and getting to show off your spouse. But the legal side of marriage is- bleh.”

“You know,” Jon says, “we can do all of that stuff without officially getting married.”

Martin pauses, the gears in his brain clearly trying to process what Jon is saying. “You’d want that?” he asks. “You’d want a- a ceremony and a suit and everything?”

“I believe I did just ask you to marry me five minutes ago,” Jon says. Martin snorts, leaning over to wrap Jon in a hug. 

“So we’re going to do it? Have a party?” Martin asks. 

“I mean, it’ll just be the two of us, but yes, we can have a party.”

“On one condition,” Martin says.

“What’s that?”   
  


“I get to carry you over the threshold.”


End file.
